


Yet Another Christmas Carol

by Mark432



Series: The Saga of Humans and Monsters [6]
Category: Funny Games (2007), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Dinner, Christmas Eve, Christmas Party, Christmas Presents, Christmas Shopping, Christmas Special, F/F, Gyftmas (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:47:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28305555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mark432/pseuds/Mark432
Summary: Once upon a time, there was holiday tale about generosity, kindness, the spirit of Christmas, and blah, blah, blah…
Relationships: Alphys/Undyne (Undertale), Frisk & Frisk's Mother (Undertale)
Series: The Saga of Humans and Monsters [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2072622
Kudos: 3





	Yet Another Christmas Carol

All throughout the city of Riverview, individuals of all shapes and sizes were preparing for the holiday festivities.

Buying gifts, collecting grocery supplies, writing letters to and from the patron saint of prostitutes…

I suppose that the last one doesn't make any sense, but I assure you, the context is not as bad as it seems.

Also, presents from Santa Claus come from parents and Gyftmas is rather inferior to Christmas.

That is also a very irritating pun and it's surprising how nobody has called Toby Fox out on it until this very moment.

Now that that's out of the way…

* * *

Gingerly pulling a rather large butterscotch-cinnamon pie out of the oven, Toriel Dreemurr breathed out a sigh of relief… before feeling irritated for some odd reason.

Perhaps it was because someone had just called her 'Dreemurr,' which she greatly dislikes.

Shaking her head, Toriel carefully carried the pie to the dining table and set it down in front of her two children.

One child was a small Boss Monster in a green-and-yellow shirt who was doodling images of a floral abomination that was turning a small human child with a blue-and-purple shirt into bloody paste, surrounded by six bright human souls.

The other child was a small human child in a green-and-yellow shirt was doodling images of a small child with a blue-and-purple shirt… who was drowning in a pool of their own blood.

"The pie is ready, my children." said Toriel.

The two children looked from each other, to the pie, to Toriel, to the various plates and eating utensils on the table.

And then, Asriel Dreemurr spoke up.

"Uh, mom?"

"Yes, Asriel?"

"You set up four plates."

Toriel checked the table to confirm that she had properly set the utensils.

"That is correct, my child."

"But there are only three of us here tonight, mother." Chara Dreemurr scoffed.

Toriel stiffened.

"Chara, I do not appreciate your tone. What would Frisk think of your behavior during this wonderful holiday?"

"This holiday is objectively inferior to the monster holiday of Gyftmas… and besides, Frisk does not live here." said Chara.

"Uh, Chara? I get why you're not exactly fond of Frisk, but could you please shut-"

"What are you talking about, my child? They are your sibling just as much as Asriel-"

Chara suddenly got up from their chair, grabbed their plate full of pie along a fork and napkin… and stormed halfway up the staircase leading to their shared bedroom with Asriel before halting.

"I do not need to listen to your patronizing words. Especially since they come from an overbearing, elderly control freak who would rather waste time obsessing over adopting a murderous human child with a purple shirt than admit that she screwed up her own relationship with her ex-husband."

As the bedroom door slammed shut, Asriel tilted his head as Toriel slowly sank to the floor with tears in her eyes.

Asriel shrugged and helped himself to a second serving of pie.

Being reborn with a stunted sense of empathy could be a pain at times, and yet there were moments where Asriel was glad for his new disposition.

It made it easier to enjoy Toriel's wonderful cooking.

* * *

Looking between his newspaper and his 262-inch TV, Kenneth Livingston realized that he didn't have much to do for the holidays.

His employees had all gone home for their vacations, and his children were busy touring the city streets in search of a fun holiday adventure.

So when the doorbell to his suite rang, Kenneth's furry ears perked up at the hint of excitement.

Opening the door, Kenneth was greeted by a young man with a white shirt.

"Hello, Monsieur." said the man.

"Greetings." said Kenneth.

"Sorry to disturb you, I'm from next door."

"Hm."

"Monsieur?"

"Is there something you need?" Kenneth remarked.

"I… well, yes." said the human, who seemed slightly embarrassed. "I was wondering if I could… borrow a few eggs?"

"Ah, of course. Give me a moment. It's rare to see a polite young man such as yourself in these trying times."

"Indeed, Monsieur. Merci beaucoup."

As Kenneth went to the kitchen to grab what was assumed to be a carton of eggs, the young man smirked to himself.

For you see, this young man was not simply a young man. His name was Peter, and he was a serial killer with medium awareness from a horror film directed by Michael Haneke.

The elevator down the hall dinged, and out stepped Paul, who was also a young serial killer with a white shirt.

"Heh, what a fool. The old man didn't even blink twice when I asked for the eggs." said Peter.

The two killers chuckled.

"It's so easy that it's almost cruel, wouldn't you say, Fatty." Peter remarked.

"Don't call me Fatty." said Paul, rolling his eyes.

"Who cares? Not the audience, surely." Peter scoffed.

Suddenly, the old man in question came back into view… wait, was that a shotg-

BANG.

Peter was blown back against the far wall, with blood trickling from the newly-made holes in his chest.

Paul took one look at the man's disdainful, violet gaze… and started running for the elevator.

The would-be serial killer would have loved to take revenge by rewriting the laws of reality like he did before, but he didn't have the means to do that this time aroun-

BANG.

Sighing, Kenneth glanced back at the remote for his television before observing the carnage he had just inflicted.

The two young men were now lying in pools of blood, since there was no remote ex-machina to help them.

"Well, was this really a surprise for anyone? This isn't Funny Games, after all."

Shaking his head, Kenneth placed the shotgun back in his inventory and went back inside to look for some hydrogen peroxide.

For a paranoiac's job is never over.

* * *

Walking along the city streets, Papyrus went over his mental checklist.

_A cookbook for Asgore's beardless clone._

_Some coloring books for Asgore's small clone and the small human child who called themselves 'Not-Frisk.'_

_A gift-wrapped dog treat for Undyne._

_A robotics book for Alphys._

_And a small bonsai tree for Asgore._

Papyrus hadn't figured out what to get for Frisk, Frisk's mother, Mister Livingston, Mister Livingston's children, or Miss Lucia… but he had a more pressing concern to attend to.

Papyrus couldn't quite figure out what to get for Sans.

Sans might enjoy a joke book full of bad skeleton puns… but he hadn't made any puns in a while.

Sans might like a vintage bottle of ketchup… but he probably wouldn't be able to get the most out of it.

Sans might have appreciated a physics book… but he had stopped caring about that sort of thing long before…

Papyrus shook his head and decided that he had procrastinated long enough.

Finding a quiet field full of snow, Papyrus closed his eyes, took a deep breath and reminded himself of the words of the people in his life.

_"you gotta relax, bro. it's really hard to get the most out of your magic if you're super tense. try doing it the way i do it… with the minimum amount of effort possible."_

_"W-well, I-I'm not exactly the best expert on magic… but I'm p-pretty sure that the best way to use magic is to be confident about what you can do. I-I mean, look at Undyne. She's great with her spears because she's really confident and I c-can use a bit of electricity magic… even if I'm terrible at it, eheheh."_

_"Eh? What kind of STUPID question is that!? You have to be PASSIONATE if you want to use magic! NGHAAAH!"_

_"Pshh. You want magic lessons? Go talk to Kenneth. You're better off with an egghead like him. And if he calls you a knucklehead, would you kindly give him a left hook from me?"_

_"Practice. Practice. Practice. You practice day in and day out. Over and over… and maybe, just maybe… your performance will be satisfactory for the world. But it won't be because the world will never be satisfied, even with perfection. So you keep practicing, even if that means keeping your head down and your mouth shut so that people will stop mocking you for endeavoring to be good at something for once."_

_"Hm? It's all about will. If you have a goal in mind, you can accomplish anything. Of course, getting to the end isn't the hard part. It's what comes after the end that frightens me… because it could easily result in a nasty surprise from the Fates themselves."_

Focusing on the goal at hand, Papyrus imagined himself standing in front of a simple door in a white void of nothingness.

Papyrus felt a rush of energy from within, along with a moderate increase in fatigue.

Opening his eyes, Papyrus found himself standing in front of the door that lied within his thoughts.

Upon knocking on the door, he was greeted by a Sans with a white lab coat and some scientific-looking glasses.

"HELLO, SANS!" said Papyrus. "IS THERE STILL ENOUGH TIME TO JOIN THE CHRISTMAS AU PARTY?"

"oh... uh… it's nice to see that a classic papyrus dropped by… but the thing is… that invitation was for the original classic papyrus, and you're not…" Science Sans paused upon seeing the look on Papyrus's face.

"AH! W-WELL! … I WAS HOPING THAT THERE WOULD BE A TINY AMOUNT OF ROOM FOR ME TO SQUEEZE IN. I MIGHT BE A TALL SKELETON, BUT MY BONES ARE RATHER… BONEY! NYEH HEH… HEH?"

"yeah… not really, dude… next time, don't show up at the last minute." Science Sans huffed.

The door slammed shut.

And so, Papyrus the Skeleton calmly teleported back to the city.

He quietly passed by a graveyard without a word.

But this was no ordinary graveyard.

For within, there was a small, unmarked grave.

It was tucked away in a corner where nobody knew about it aside from one particular monster.

There was no body buried there. No bones, no ashes, and no dust to spread.

But as of this fine Christmas evening, there now was a small collection of items to show that someone had moved on from this particular world.

A joke book that would never be opened.

A bottle of ketchup that would age forever.

And a physics book that never had a purpose.

Would you consider that to be ironic?

* * *

"Son of a BITCH!" came a loud scream, as Undyne found herself being thrown out of an Italian restaurant.

"Uh…"

"If you say ANYTHING, I SWEAR-" Undyne cut herself off when she realized that Alphys was the one who was talking to her.

The two monsters blinked.

"Oh… hey, Alphys! How's it going!?" Undyne changed the subject with a rather wide smile.

"O-oh, not much, really!? I w-was trying to do some last minute gift shopping, but I guess I'll h-have to settle for gift certificates again, haha!" Alphys smiled widely, just like Undyne.

"That's GREAT!" said Undyne.

"I know, right!?" said Alphys.

As the two monsters silently stood on the sidewalk, Alphys and Undyne both realized that they couldn't ignore the elephant in the room.

Because while Alphys had managed to find a stable income with her college education and her unique talents, Undyne was not so fortunate…for reasons that shall not be named.

"Want to go get something to eat? My treat!" said Alphys.

Undyne opened her mouth to protest, but then she shivered in the frigid air as her stomach growled.

And so, the two ladies quickly rushed into a nearby McDonalds for a quick meal and some relief from the cold.

The elephant was addressed… for now.

* * *

Standing at the edge of a frozen lake, Asgore Dreemurr fidgeted.

Not from the cold, but because he was currently wearing some extremely tacky footwear.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" said Lucia, the wendigo who was watching from the side.

"I… I do not see the point of this activity." Asgore muttered.

As Lucia shifted her weight in the snow, Asgore felt uneasy.

Upon sensing Asgore's fear, Lucia's eyes rolled from deep within her intimidating mask.

"It's supposed to be fun. Why else would the humans strap shoes with dull blades to their feet and go out in weather like this? Look at them!" Lucia remarked, nodding towards some unimportant humans who were sliding around at the far end of the lake.

Some did so with grace and other merely wobbled around on the ice, but they all seemed… happy.

"Isn't that a bit dangerous? What would happen if the ice broke beneath their feet?" Asgore nervously asked.

"Then they would fall into the frigid water and die a horrific death by drowning in the icy depths. A death so horrible that most unfortunate souls tend to linger afterwards out of pure spite." Lucia suddenly hissed, grinning with sharp teeth and a quiet hunger in her azure eyes.

Asgore shrinked backed, and Lucia chuckled.

"Relax. Nothing bad's going to happen tonight because I'm here. The ice will hold for them... and for you, if you have the courage for it."

Asgore couldn't quite bring himself to believe that.

Looking between the wendigo and the humans that she would have ruthlessly fed on in any other situation, Asgore couldn't help but question her.

"Why?"

"Because it's Christmas! Everybody knows you're supposed to respect the holiday spirit so that Krampus doesn't break into your house and kill everybody in their sleep, duh!"

Asgore… had nothing to say to that.

So he settled for sitting on the snowbank and burying his head in his hands.

This was too much.

All he wanted to do was find peace with himself… and to be loved by someone, anyone.

As Asgore sat motionless for what seemed like an eternity, he heard the sound of shifting snow as Lucia opted to lay down next to the downtrodden Boss Monster.

"Hey, can we get the Valak Mountain night theme, from Xenoblade Chronicles?" said Lucia.

Slowly, Asgore began to hear the faint, ethereal sound of a lonely piano. He couldn't tell where it was coming from, but it made him feel calm.

"Thanks! Now, what to do, what to do… hm. You were wondering why I act the way I do, right?"

Asgore sat motionless.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to bite your head off for saying something stupid. I'm not in the mood tonight. Come on, lie down for a moment."

Asgore slowly did as he was told.

Looking up at the sky, Asgore noticed the wind had died down, and the snow had stopped falling.

The skies were perfectly clear, revealing an entire canopy of beautiful stars.

"You know, most Christmas carols have a pattern." said Lucia.

Asgore did not know, but he kept quiet.

"There's always this overused phrase about 'the true meaning of Christmas,' which is usually meant for cynical pessimists like Kenneth and me. We've heard that phrase all our lives… it's just that we've recently found ourselves wondering if it still has a place in this day and age."

Asgore couldn't think of a response, because he was not very familiar with this 'Christmas' holiday.

"You have two main ways to use it. You can create a story about how a misanthrope learns to be more generous towards other people, such as the original tale by Charles Dickens or that Dr. Seuss cartoon about the Grinch. Or you can create a story about how a bunch of people get together to help Santa Claus and save Christmas…. and all that jazz."

"Those stories sound… nice?" Asgore asked, still wondering if the holiday had any connection to Gyftmas.

"I mean, they're perfectly fine stories. It's just that there are so many of them, and they all have the exact same message of positive thinking. It's something that really bugs Kenneth. He wants to see new things, but not at the cost of being portrayed as the only one at fault just for 'turning on a goddamned video game.' There are plenty of caustic critics who create super-serious deconstructions because they all want to see something new. Kenneth just hates being the butt of the joke because it reminds him too much of his past, where there were many things outside of his control and he couldn't do anything about all that incessant whining and nagging. Besides, you of all people should know what it's like to grow up in the presence of an overbearing woman who can do no wrong, in your eyes… or her eyes. It explains way too much about your failing relationship with Toriel. Which tends to happen in practically every timeline, even when both of your children are perfectly alive and well. Financial issues are a bitch." Lucia remarked.

Asgore winced.

"And as for why I act the way I do… well… it's hard to put raw emotion into words. Haven't you ever had a moment where you were so angry that you wished that the entire universe would implode under the weight of its own hypocrisy? Or a moment where you loved someone so much that you would do anything for them, even becoming the worst villain in the multiverse if it gave you the power to keep them safe from being pointlessly sacrificed as a martyr?"

Silence.

"But what do I know? I'm just a hideous, horrifying monster who projects her own baggage on innocent goofballs who would never hurt a fly, not even by accident."

Taking a deep breath, Lucia's eyes shimmered as the canopy of stars began to change.

As the two lonely monsters watched, the canopy began to reflect a silent scene.

As the scene unfolded, two simple individuals were settling down for a nice Christmas dinner.

One was a small child with a burning flame in their smoldering eyes, a flame that would burn everything in sight if the need arose.

The other was a middle-aged woman with dull eyes that hid a dormant flame, waiting to emerge when all hope seemed lost.

Both of them had the gift of fire, and both would use that gift for selfish ends. They had done so before, after all.

But despite the inevitability of loneliness, anguish, and despair, the two bearers of fire had found comfort in each other.

No words were needed this time.

For that is the nature of the bond between a mother and a child.

* * *

Tragedy and comedy are two sides of the same coin.

One makes you laugh, the other makes you cry.

We all know which side Shakespeare preferred… but there must be more to the true nature of art.

It can't all be pointless angst… despite what Sans would have you believe.

When all hope is lost and all doors have closed themselves from your sight, you only have three simple choices.

Cry, laugh, or pray.

But perhaps…

* * *

Walking through the snow, Frisk Amherst took a deep breath as the world went still.

Perhaps it was because of their magic, or perhaps the wind has simply died down.

Either way, it didn't change the fact that there was a conversation that needed to happen.

Nothing can last forever, not even the fabric of reality.

And so, Frisk spoke up.

"Mister Livingston."

As the old werewolf opened up a familiar swirling portal, he only had one thing to say, even as his ears drooped by a hair's breadth.

"Frisk… it's time."

And thus, hope lit the way forward once again… and forevermore.


End file.
